Talk to the Moon - Prelude
by Lou Jan Yun
Summary: WARNING: Death and violence. A boy comes to take revenge for his father's killer. With the face of an angel he wields the most powerful sword to exist. Can Kenshin stand against an angel of death who doesn't even know what death is?


TALK TO THE MOON - PRELUDE  
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Two years before the Kyoto arc:  
  
"Heaven is crying.  
Heaven is crying.  
Buddha save us."  
  
Thunder crashed. Lightning streaked through the sky. The people assembled inside of the family shrine trembled. Lightning was the hand of Heaven reaching out to smite the sinners. The time for Heaven's vengeance was near.  
  
"Buddha save us," they prayed. They were all members of the same family - three generations of the Miyamoto family gathered together in the same room. The patriarch, the sons and the grandchildren. All branches of the Miyamoto family tree were gathered in this one room. Every member of the clan was wearing white and sackcloth - the traditional clothes of mourning.  
  
A sudden violent gust of wind caused the thin wooden door to burst open. Their hearts leapt into their throats as they half-expected to see the wrath of Heaven at the door. A small girl wailed.  
  
But there was no-one there.  
  
Then from behind them came a soft, gentle voice:  
  
"The great sage Confucius once said: A son whose father has been assassinated, will continue even after the time of mourning has elapsed, to sleep on the funereal mat, with his weapons as a pillow. He will accept no office, no employment, but will be entirely devoted to seeking vengeance. For he must not allow the murderer of his father, to live at the same time as he under heaven. If he meet him, be it in the market, be it in the palace, he must hurl himself at him immediately."  
  
The small dark figure uncurled itself from the shadows.  
  
"Greetings Miyamoto-san. Today you are a respected pillar of the community. Everyone looks up to you. You preside over a thriving shipping company. But nine years ago, during the blood-soaked violence of the Bakumatsu you were one of the assassins who betrayed and killed my father."  
  
A gruff grey-haired man, the patriach of the Miyamoto clan stood proudly.   
  
"Yes. I will no longer deny it. Nine years ago I was a hitokiri. My family knows the truth now."  
  
Miyamoto glanced out of the open door at the overcast sky.  
  
"The calenders say that tonight is a full moon. It is a pity that it is raining. It would be appropriate that tonight, the night you kill me, there should be a full moon in the sky."  
  
"Oh, and why is that?"  
  
"Because the night we betrayed and attacked your father, the moon hung full and bright in the sky. It was the most beautiful moon I have ever seen..."  
  
*The snow crunching underneath my feet.*  
  
"Your father went into the temple to pray."  
  
*Quick, quick, he's gone into the building.*  
  
"Your father was the most powerful swordsman in Japan. It is said that not even the school of Hiten Mitsurigi Ryu could defeat him."  
  
*Blood. The smell of blood. Sickening, acrid, sweet*  
  
"The door to the temple opened."  
  
*An old creaking sound*  
  
"He staggered out with a dagger on his back. He was carrying a small child in his arms."  
  
*The child was you wasn't it?*  
  
"We all attacked. But even though he was injured..."  
  
*Cut down. Five gone. They're dead. Another five. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...*  
  
"But he was injured and protecting a child so he couldn't fight properly. He ran away."  
  
*Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?   
Follow the blood, follow the blood,...*  
  
"So you killed him then."  
  
"No! We heard the child crying. We followed it. Suddenly it stopped. When we got there, all I saw was a shadowy figure, it could have been anyone of the other four survivors. I could see you father's face clearly though. That night the moon was so full, so bright....Your father's face was turned up to heaven and his face was bathed in moonlight. He said something, I'm not sure what. All I could here was "Why?" I don't know who he was talking to, it didn't look like he was talking to his killer. Maybe he was talking to the moon. Lying on the ground like that, that was all he would have been able to see. The only one close enough to know what your father said would have been his killer."  
  
"But I don't know who killed him. There were twenty of us there, fifteen had died. It must have been one of the five left. But we all lost sight of each other for five minutes. We fanned out to search. It could have been any of the others! I don't know!"  
  
"The child was gone too."  
  
The assassin shifted slightly. "My mother told me that my father hid me in the bushes before he died."  
  
"That's impossible. The child was crying. How could..."  
  
"Enough!"  
  
The assassin pointed his sword at the patriarch. "Who were the other assassins. Twenty hitokiri went to the temple. Fifteen died. You and five others survived. One of those five must have killed my father. Who were the other four?"  
  
"I don't know. We were all masked and I had never met any of the others before. I don't know why they were there."  
  
"Why were you then?"  
  
"Your father - Before we were a proud samurai family. We weren't rich, or well-known but we were happy. One day, your father came to stay with us. We were honoured to have such a famous fighter - but he seduced my sister! He got her pregnant and left. My sister, she hanged herself. My father and my mother died of the shame. My younger sisters and I were driven out of our homes by our neighbours who refused to live next to such a disgraceful family. To survive, I had to give up my samurai honour, everything, to become a hitokiri and feed and clothe what remained of my family. But one day I came home and because I hadn't been there to protect them, a band of ruffians had broken in and killed them all, they had done things to them that I don't even want to think about."  
  
"Don't lie! My father would never have done that! You lie!"  
  
"I am not lyng. Everything I had was gone - my honour, my heritage. I was living for my sisters but when they died, I had nothing left. I was going to kill myself. To commit ritual suicide, so I could at least face my parents in heaven, when *he* came and offered me life."  
  
"The leader, the organizer?"  
  
"Yes, he gave me a purpose, a meaning. After the war ended I took in orphan young men and women who were living on the street because no-one would even give a job to because they had no families, no respectability, no names, and with the help of money I received from my - benefactor, I raised them until now they have their own grandchildren. In the past nine years, I have not regretted killing your father. Not for one moment!"  
  
"Don't lie to me!" the assassin screamed. "Don't confuse me! My mother loves me! She would never lie to me!"  
  
"I am telling the truth. Your father deserved to die. Nine years ago I made a promise on my honour that I would never tell the name of the leader of the group. Nine years ago I was a broken up hitokiri with no honour and he gave me back my honour, he gave me back my past as a samurai, he gave me my future. So now, I will not break that promise even on pain of death."  
  
"Then I'll have to kill you then."  
  
"No!"  
  
The shrill cry echoed through the room. The assassin looked down to see a little five year old girl in front of her grandfather protectively.   
  
"No!"  
  
"No!"  
  
En masse the whole Miyamoto clan moved in front of their patriach. A young woman, no more than twenty stepped forward.  
  
"If you want to kill father you must kill us all first."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Each one of the Miyamoto's from the oldest son to the little girl who had first moved pulled out a weapon - a sword, a dagger, whatever could fit into the size hands.  
  
"We will defend grandfather to the death!"  
  
The assassin stood still for a few moments, the sword hung limply by his side. "Why...why do you care so much about each other? I don't understand...Mother, you never told me..."   
  
Lightning lit up the sky.  
  
Green eyes lit up in the flash.   
  
"Don't confuse me!"  
  
Steel flashed.  
  
Then it was over.  
  
The assassin wiped his sword with a cloth and sheathed it. As he was about to walk out of the shrine he hesitated for a moment. He bent down and touched the cheek of the little five year old granddaughter of the Miyamoto patriarch. It was an almost tender touch, the fingers caressing. Bending down he placed his ear over the girl's heart.   
  
There was no beat. There was no life.   
  
*Why? Did I cause this?*  
  
Noticing her mouth slightly open, he moved his ear toward her open mouth.  
  
"The dead don't talk you know."  
  
The sly smooth voice came from the doorway. The assassin just stayed is his prone position, his hand not even moving towards his sword. The bandaged hand of the newcomer moved the pipe out of his mouth which then blew smoke rings into the air.  
  
"Who are you?" the assassin asked almost uncaringly.  
  
"Shishio Makoto. I've been observing you."  
  
"I know."  
  
Shishio laughed. "I suppose even my protege Soujiro is not good enough for the heir to - "  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I want you to join me."  
  
"As your lackey I suppose."  
  
"Of course not! As my partner. My plan is to take over - "  
  
"I don't care about the world. I only care for my vengeance."  
  
Brilliant green eyes shone in the darkness as the assassin opened his eyes and sat up.  
  
"Well, there are things I could tell you about your target if you..." Shishio's hand raised his pipe up to his mouth.  
  
"But you'll tell me now."  
  
Shishio's hand stopped in mid-air. The assassin who had been sitting metres away, his hand nowhere near his sword was now standing beside him with his sword at his throat. Shishio hadn't even seen him move.  
  
"Hmmmm." Shishio's lips curled into a smile. "Such a bad-tempered young man, with no respect for your elders. I think you wouldn't make such a good partner after all. As long as you agree not to hamper my Kuni Tori, I will tell you all I know."  
  
"I promise, with one condition. If in the course of my vengeance your Kuni Tori becomes, how should I put it, inconveniant..."  
  
"Of course. I wouldn't expect any less." Grabbing the naked blade at his throat with two fingers, Shishio gently pushed it away from him. With his other hand he took another puff at his pipe.  
  
"Well, what I know isn't much and may have nothing to do with the men you seek, but during the Bakumatsu, Miyaomoto-san here was working with the Ishin-shishi."  
  
"Why didn't I find that out earlier?"  
  
"He was a low-level operator. A hitokiri's task is to hide in the shadows. Ironically, those who are least successful gather the least attention and hence hide the best."  
  
"Are you saying the Ishin-shishi killed my father?"  
  
"No...not neccessarily, but it is a good place to start don't you think? And one last thing. That sword..."  
  
"It was the sword left behind by my father's killer. My father's death was the last time he killed with this sword. He left it in the ground near my father's body. Since I could walk I have been training with this sword, so I can kill my father's murderer with his own blade."  
  
"That blade looks like the work of : Arai Shakkuu - a murder sword. That also cuts down your targets a bit doesn't it?"  
  
"Is that all you know?"  
  
Shishio smiled.  
  
The young man started to walk away. As he did the rain stopped and the clouds parted to reveal a bright full moon.   
  
"Aren't you going to even say thanks."  
  
The young man stopped and turned around. The moonlight revealed what had been hidden in the shadows.  
  
"You'e quite...impressive. If Kamatari looked like you he might actually be competition for Yumi."  
  
Without a word, the young man, vanished into the night so quickly that even Shishio's eyes couldn't keep up. Soon even the man who desired to rule Japan disappeared. Only the moon remained, the bright full moon which shone on the bloody broken bodies of the dead. Amongst them was the dead girl, her eyes wide and staring up at the moon, her mouth slightly opened as if she was talking to it.  
  
But what do the dead have to say?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
